


Never Gonna Leave This Bed

by auber_jean



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, College, Day 7: FREE, Emotions, M/M, OiKuro Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3361793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auber_jean/pseuds/auber_jean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"The silence takes a beat between them. And Oikawa’s heart feels like it will shatter his chest, because he can feel the words coming; to stay or to go."</em>
</p>
<p>Every other night, Oikawa silently dresses, gathers his belongings and walks out of the room, out of the door. Every other night, Oikawa has never felt the need to define their relationship. But not tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Gonna Leave This Bed

**Author's Note:**

> My friend arsenicjay prompted me with the song 'Never Gonna Leave This Bed' by Maroon 5, so here it is. I had this written and waiting for a while now, so I decided to share it during Oikuro Week :D
> 
> This story runs in the same vein to my other fic 'Weather', but it's not necessary to read it beforehand.

Oikawa wakes up in the middle of the night. His eyes shutter in the small stream of the light that peers through the curtains. The night hums, clinging to his bones. His muscles feel weak to their core, sore and numb at every flex.  
  
He casts his eyes to the other side of the bed, watching the slight rise and fall of Kuroo’s chest as the other sleeps. Oikawa notes the lax splay of limbs across the sheets, Kuroo’s head nestled comfortably between two pillows. The sight stirs through Oikawa, a dull ache burning in his insides urging him to hold, to touch, to maintain this warmth. But Oikawa keeps his hands by his sides, turning his focus to stare at the ceiling, vaguely counting down the minutes to when he has to leave.  
  
The clock on the bedside table glows, the red numbers marking 2:15 a.m. So Oikawa allows himself the fifteen minutes before making his way out. Because as comfortable as it feels, his body feels numb. A mismatched piece to a whole machine that is Kuroo’s life. And Oikawa never stays beyond when he has to because he has long trained himself to leave before anyone can ask him to.  
  
He likes the freedom, and the right to choose where he stays and goes. It’s a liberty that beats through him, and he revels in it.  
  
Oikawa knows that his approach won’t stand solid forever. For months he has been waiting for the confrontations that will inevitably demand him to call back the countless phone calls that he has missed, to reply to the conversations he leaves open-ended, and to stop running from all the things that will keep him grounded.  
  
His teammates at Aoba Jousai called him out on his ability to manoeuvre people to his own liking, for his own gain. But Oikawa isn’t that vindictive. It isn’t people that he wants control. It never was.  
  
All he wanted was to ensure that he would never be a pawn in someone’s hand.  
  
So he roams endlessly, drawing himself towards a thousand people with million dollar smiles and carefully phrased stories; always as a fragment but never a whole.  
  
But it’s his own curse, his own insistence to never be anchored to one place. Because Oikawa is never tied down. He chooses where he stays. His flippancy is his guard. He chooses where he belongs, and lets the world flow around him, pushing its back unto the victory that it deserves.  
  
But Oikawa himself, belongs to no-one.

  
————

  
Fresh out of high school and leaving Miyagi, Oikawa embraced the bright new world of Tokyo with open hands, pursuing volleyball with everything he could. He met Kuroo on campus. Already well acquainted with the area, connections with all those around, Kuroo showed him around the city, always ready to share. Naming landmarks in rapid-fire, smile wide and laughing at Oikawa’s floating questions.  
  
It was months after, a night of drunken revelry in the darkness of a club. Kuroo’s eyes burned from across the whole of the room, far too illuminated and Oikawa couldn’t look away. They ended up in Oikawa’s apartment, hands moving at a thousand miles an hour, shameless and exploratory. From then it never really stopped. The truth of it stood silent between them, it never meant a thing.  
  
Kuroo lets him come and go every time afterwards. Eyes watching him in the dark from his bedroom, watching as Oikawa silently dresses, gathering his belongings, walking out of the room and out the door. But he never says a word.  
  
Kuroo’s apartment is always open to Oikawa. Whether it be during the brunt weeks of their exams to the monotonous hours of early morning when the both of them have nothing better to do. It’s a pattern that they keep. Something that Oikawa believes to be ultimately spineless and uncommitted. And maybe Kuroo is just humouring him, keeping him as a body to his side.  
  
But that isn’t the truth, and Oikawa will never believe it.  
  
And Oikawa knows that Kuroo won’t ever rush him. Won’t make him answer the questions he knows the other boy is waiting to ask. They live in a capsule, and Oikawa is just waiting for their time to run out, keeping the counter ticking in his chest until he has to leave and never come back.  
  
There have been moments where Oikawa has wavered, willing his body to stay in place and make himself at home. In those times, Kuroo’s eyes watch him with curiosity, his stare waiting to rip Oikawa’s stance apart, to lure and drag his body back to the bed, anchoring himself to a reality with more solidarity than he is accustomed to.  
  
There was one time that Kuroo waited to see if he would stay.  
  
It was a night out on the city. Exams had ended and there was nothing more but drinks and the thundering bass lines of the club. They came back to Kuroo’s apartment in each other’s arms and drumming heartbeats, and when it was all over Kuroo asked Oikawa to wait a while. And Oikawa stood, his heart thrumming against his throat choking at the words to be said, and his fingers fumbling at the buttons of his shirt trying to piece himself together.  
  
“No thanks,” he had said, his eyes meeting Kuroo’s in a short flash before he fled through the door, slamming it shut with a conviction he only wished he had felt.

  
————

  
  
Oikawa sits up, his body heavy. The bed warm, sheets swathing at his thighs, keeping him wrapped together. The chill of the autumn air, clinging to his skin. He runs a hand along his arm, grazing the tender muscles, strained and overused.  
  
He moves his feet off the edge of the bed, his soles hitting the wooden floorboard. Eyes searching for his clothes on the floor. He sees his jeans dropped by the doorway, and he remembers Kuroo tracing his lips on his shoulder, spreading wildfire on his skin. The drag of his hips against Kuroo’s, his insides burning with every roll and thrust. Every bit of exhilaration driving him far and too deep.  
  
Oikawa shakes the feeling, reaching down from the bed to grab his boxers from the floor, and slipping them on with practiced ease. Oikawa reaches for his watch on the nightstand, the metal gleaming in the dim light as the hands move minute by minute. His fingers touch the metal, accidentally knocking the accessory to the ground. It hits the floor with a solid crack, echoing throughout the room. Oikawa’s breath catches, quickly grabbing the watch in his hands, hoping to recapture the previous silence.  
  
Kuroo stirs by his side, never quite awake but never wholly asleep. His eyes peer at Oikawa curiously, squinting in the dimness of the room, clouded with sleep, “You’re so loud—“  
  
It’s then that Oikawa allows himself to really look. Kuroo’s hair stuck up in all directions in its endless fit of bed-head, the flutter of his tired eyes, and the sincerity of Kuroo’s face makes Oikawa feel fond.  
  
Striking him straight, and leaving him feeling so infinitely warm.  
  
The silence takes a beat between them. And Oikawa’s heart feels like it will shatter his chest, because he can feel the words coming; to stay or to go.  
  
But then Kuroo reaches an arm out, slowly but surely, fingers skimming Oikawa’s wrist, warm and binding. And Oikawa feels his breaths get shorter at the touch.  
  
“Are you leaving?” Kuroo asks, voice devoid of anything. Never too much and never nothing at all.  
  
Because no matter what he says, Oikawa knows that Kuroo will let him go if he wants to.  
  
So Oikawa hums, running his hand against Kuroo’s cheek, lips raised in a quaint smile, not entirely convinced but not willing to deny it all together. The knot in his chest relaxes, unfolding itself, pulling him apart. The inner timer he’s kept marked for every night he has come and gone, loses its place.  
  
He takes a deep breath.  
  
“No,” he says, finally, voice ringing true, “I’m staying.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a big thank you to arsenicjay for beta'ing and for dealing with how nonsensical I get about Oikuro.


End file.
